


Muted Blue

by sparkinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 24 Floors, Anxiety, Character Study, Derek Hale Character Study, Hotel, M/M, Panic, Stiles is Derek's Anchor, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinski/pseuds/sparkinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew. Somewhere inside himself, he knew taking his own life was not the answer. But the idea of protecting everyone by removing himself from their lives was overwhelming. Everyone he loved kept dying all around him, while the ones who caused all this pain and death kept coming back to life.</p><p>The common factor here was Derek.</p><p>Takes place at the end of 3B and completely disregards season 4.<br/>Based on the song 24 Floors by The Maine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muted Blue

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly more detailed warning that what the tags hold is in the end notes.

His head was pounding with the ghost of a headache. Or maybe it was real, Derek didn’t know. He had never truly dealt with something as simple as a headache; his power as a werewolf saw to that.

No, he had never dealt with anything simple at all.

Everything in his life was so _fucking_ complicated.

So he was pacing. Walking around every inch of the dimly lit hotel room he’d ended up in a couple towns away from his personal hell, otherwise known as Beacon Hills and The Return of Kate Argent. There was hair pulling and angrily knocking things to the floor and sheer _panic_.

Derek had been rid of Kate. She was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be moving on and recovering from that part of his life with her permanently out of it.

But apparently it hadn’t been as permanent as everyone had thought.

He had _actually_ been moving on, for Christ’s sake. Something he never thought he would do. Undoubtedly, he’d always feel responsible for his family’s death; nothing could possibly change that. But without having to worry about Kate popping up and finishing what she started, he… it was a little easier to move past it knowing justice had been served.

He’d made stupid, horrible decisions as an Alpha. He put everyone in danger and got Erica and Boyd killed because of it. Something else he would never forget or forgive himself for.

But in the wake of all the disaster, he’d discovered Cora. His long-lost baby sister. While she hadn’t seemed completely keen on what Derek had become, she was a light in the darkness for him, whether she knew it or not.

And in the wake of all the disaster, he’d discovered how to trust again, even if only a little bit. Scott and Stiles were something of an enigma to him. A couple of kids he seethed over in the beginning, but now...

Now Scott was an Alpha, and Derek wasn’t. But Scott was his brother in arms. Even if he had double-crossed Derek more than once, it had been “for the greater good” and Derek was still bitter, probably hurt if one got past his pride, but he understood.

Stiles remained a nuisance, but one that Derek found himself seeking out, and trusting more than anyone. He didn’t know how it happened or even when. Figured it probably started when the kid was a consistent, annoying presence the summer the Alphas arrived. He helped Derek search for Erica and Boyd. He never told Scott.

Then it was like Derek never got a chance to thank him. Once Scott found out about the pack, the drama and violence had been kicked up to ten. Derek had been manipulated by yet another psychotic and sadistic woman in the face of Erica’s death, and then Boyd’s. And when Scott’s and Stiles’ parents almost did… Derek just didn’t dare intervene with Stiles’ precious family time after that, not even just to mutter his thanks. For everything.

Derek and Stiles were friends now. That much was clear. Derek had _made_ that clear, when he’d trusted Stiles over Jennifer. Stiles had made it clear when he stayed with him, after Boyd. When Stiles came back for him in the elevator after Scott left with Deucalion. When everyone was safe after Jennifer, and Derek’s first reaction upon seeing Stiles was to cup the boy’s face in one hand, both to comfort and examine his injuries. He hadn’t thought anything of that last one until he’d seen the way the Sheriff was studying them a little later, while Stiles was telling Derek about the car crash and the cellar under the Nemeton nearly collapsing on top of everyone. It took that look from the older man for Derek to realize that Stiles actually meant something to him.

And he still never thanked him.

Because as things go in Beacon Hills, as soon as things settled down, they picked right back up again. The Nemeton was alive, and Derek knew Stiles wasn’t sleeping. Knew he, Scott, and Allison were having Night/Day Terrors. Knew there was a current of evil rippling through the town once more.

He just hadn’t expected it to hit _so_ close to home. Again.

He was the first one to fully realize Stiles had been possessed by the Nogitsune. That Stiles unwillingly had blood on his hands. But by the time he did, Stiles was gone. Missing.

Derek would never forget those days he searched endlessly for the boy. The panic he felt because he couldn’t catch his scent anywhere. Because this was Stiles and Derek _couldn’t lose anyone else_. Especially not the person Derek had abandoned his anger for. The stupid kid who had somehow become his anchor throughout all of this mess they had been in together.

The climax of Stiles’ possession all happened so quickly that Derek couldn’t even be there. He just suddenly got the text (the _text_ , because he guessed no one but himself and _maybe_ Stiles realized how much this had all affected him) that everything was okay again. That the Nogitsune was taken care of and they were taking Stiles to the hospital for recovery.

All Derek had to do was grab his keys and go…

But that’s when Kate showed up.

The amount of shock Derek felt was so overwhelming he fell into a dream-state. He needed out of the real-life nightmare, he supposed, and wasn’t surprised that Stiles was there. Not anymore. Derek asked him how to tell if he was dreaming or not. And so Stiles showed him. Only, Derek needed to prove that _Kate_ was the dream. Not that Stiles was.

But Derek’s life never worked out that way.

He snapped back to reality when the bullet holes in his torso started burning--a grossly familiar feeling, at this point. The Wolfsbane was kicking in. Kate was smirking at him, the smirk she used to use on him when he was naïve to who she really was. It just made him sick all over again, and maybe that was her point.

Everything was still a bit of a blur, as his brain attempted to handle the shock by drifting in between “realities,” so he didn’t really catch what Kate said before she shifted. And in all his years being a part of the supernatural world and learning from his family and their books, he had never seen anything like her. “Cat” came to mind and he wondered briefly if she was a werejaguar, which he had only ever read about, never seen.

Kate was laughing and pointing her gun at his head when she was attacked from behind.

Derek could do nothing but pass out as he was dragged out of the loft.

He awoke in the McCall residence, strength returned, to the sound of Scott's and Deaton’s voices. When Scott called out to him, he ignored him. It took him a moment to realize Scott was calling out to him because he was running, though. Reality was not something he wanted to face right then, apparently. It wasn’t something he _could_ face.

He didn’t know how long he ran. However long it took him to end up in this random hotel; taking cover like that would be enough protection from Kate and whatever else was out there trying to screw with his head and end his life.

And so he was pacing. Pulling his hair and destroying public property. Panicking and thinking thoughts he hadn’t thought in a very long time.

Like how this world would be so much better off without him in it.

He knew. Somewhere inside himself, he knew taking his own life was not the answer. But the idea of protecting everyone by removing himself from their lives was overwhelming. Everyone he loved kept dying all around him; the ones who caused all this pain and death kept coming back to life.

The common factor here was Derek.

He swiftly walked toward the balcony door and shoved it open. But he froze, scrunched up his face with deep desperation before he flung himself back inside the room. He sat on the edge of the creaky bed, putting himself a couple of feet in front of the large television sitting atop a dresser.

Combing his fingers through his hair, he stared at it. Stared at the blank face of the TV as if it would give him all the answers. He couldn’t even see his reflection, but maybe that was for the best; he didn’t want to see just how wrecked he truly was.

The thoughts swirling around his mind were only getting worse. Images of what-ifs becoming so prominent it was like his brain was projecting them onto the TV in front of him, like it was on and streaming Derek’s worst fears right before his very eyes.

Side-by-side images. The one on the left portrayed a laughing Cora, who was back in Beacon Hills and rebuilding the Hale home. She looked safe, accompanied by Scott, who was showing off his strength by lifting Stiles’ jeep with one hand. And Stiles… Derek had never seen him so happy. He was laughing with his whole body, only a glint of horror in his eyes because he cared way too much about his piece-of-crap-car. Isaac was rolling his eyes yet cracking a smile as he carried a stack of wood toward the house. Everyone Derek even remotely appreciated was in the image, all perfectly happy and together with no imminent danger looming over their heads. The second image, the one on the right, was quite simple and gut-wrenchingly clear.

Everyone was dead.

As if the hitch in his breath was a signal, the right image zoomed in, with a sharp focus on Cora, and right next to her, Stiles. They were both bleeding profusely; Cora was covered in bruises that weren’t healing, and Stiles’ body was twisted at _such_ unnatural angles Derek had to slam his eyes shut, trying to erase the both of them from his memory, trying not to cry.

When he looked back up at the television, the view had zoomed out again, and standing over everyone’s dead bodies was every enemy Derek had ever faced, along with innumerable blurs. Enemies he didn't yet know but would eventually face if he continued this life.

 _Goddammit_ , they would be so much better off.

The wind was whipping against his face, on the balcony, before he even realized he was out there.

He was terrified of the tears threatening to fall past the brims of his eyes. The tears meant he was seriously considering this. Considering never seeing Cora or Stiles or Scott ever again.

But they’d all be safer.

Were 24 floors even enough to do the trick?

He swung his legs over and sat on the railing. He just needed a moment to let a few tears fall, to conjure up that happy image, to listen to the city below him and hope no one saw him hit the ground if he just happened to slip from his current seat.

Then he sunk into what he assumed was another stress-induced dream-state. Back in the locker room, and with Stiles again, sitting next to him this time, a comforting hand on Derek’s knee.

“You don’t want to die tonight,” he said.

“And what if I do?” Derek forced out, his chin hitting his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

“No. You know this isn’t the answer. Take a breath. You’re still in shock about Kate. Just clear your mind and you’ll get it, Derek.” Dream-Stiles squeezed Derek’s knee, leaned a little closer.

“Get what?” Derek asked miserably. All he “got” was that he would be protecting Stiles. Why was that so bad?

“You killing yourself doesn’t protect everyone. You leaving us behind will only make us more broken, more helpless. This is how Kate would want you to react. We need you, Derek. I need you.”

Derek shook his head frantically. _Don’t say that to me_. When he opened his eyes and stared upward, all he could see were stars. He took a deep breath like Dream-Stiles had told him to, but it didn’t help much.

He knew this dream version of Stiles wasn’t a lot like the real Stiles. This dream version stood tall, was still, and sure of himself and his words and of Derek. The real Stiles was awkward and tripped over himself and talked way more than he should. But Derek was _fine_ with that, honestly; he didn’t know why Dream-Stiles (Anchor-Stiles?) was so different.

He took another breath, knowing he was procrastinating the inevitable, but perhaps hoping there was some truth in Dream-Stiles’ words.

If anything the breathing was calming him down, but it wasn’t pushing his mind in the direction Dream-Stiles intended. He gripped the railing tighter and let his eyes slide shut. Would Cora hate him even more? Or would she feel abandoned?

“D-Derek?”

The voice suddenly behind him sounded utterly broken and very- _Stiles_? Derek whipped around, nearly losing his balance on the rail, and sure enough, there he was. What was he doing here? “You’re supposed to be in the hospital.”

To his horror, Stiles’ bottom lip trembled and eyes glistened as he responded, “So that’s it then? You were just gonna do this while I was in recovery so you didn’t have to say goodbye?”

He was still so pale. Still rough around the edges. And Derek’s immediate impulse was to throw all caution to the wind and wrap the boy up in his arms, to lay him down and make him go to sleep for as long as he needed. But he stayed where he was. “How did you…”

“Scott followed you when you bolted. I made my dad drive me here.”

Derek turned back to face the city and nodded. He couldn’t let this affect his decision. He really needed to get the danger away from everybody.

“You’re _not_. saying. goodbye.” Stiles’ words were forced and fierce. “Not like this.” It sounded like he was crying, but Derek didn’t dare check. He could feel the boy approaching though. Slowly. Carefully. Like Derek was a ticking time-bomb. He kind of was, wasn't he?

“Maybe it would be for the best.” Derek’s voice was smaller than he intended, more hurt. He didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself.

“No. _No_ ,” seemed to be all Stiles could muster in the moment, but he did wrap his hand around one of Derek’s wrists. Tugged on it gently in the direction opposite of the terrifying, 24-floor drop. He resisted for a few long seconds. Long enough for Stiles to go on, “ _No_. Derek, you’re not fucking dying like this, okay? If you die, it’s because your ass is gonna go down _fighting_ , not because you give up. Come _on_.”

Derek was surprised--or, really, maybe he wasn’t--to find himself swinging his legs back around to steady ground. It was like his body responded to Stiles better than it did to himself. As soon as both feet were reluctantly, but safely on the balcony, Stiles rushed forward and wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug. Derek nearly choked on a sob, slowly sliding his arms around the other's waist.

He knew letting Stiles turn him away from this, that letting him in would be the wrong way to go. Letting people in never ended well for him. Never. Yet he found that, in this moment, he wanted Stiles near. What the hell, he _needed_ him near. But he couldn’t. Stiles would end up _dead_. And then.

“Please don’t give up, Derek.” Stiles’ voice was so small as he pulled back to stare at his face, and Derek…

Derek was kissing him.

It was hard and clumsy at first, with Derek’s suddenness, and Stiles’ obvious shock, but then after a moment, Stiles fanned his long fingers across each side of Derek’s face, taking care to wipe tears away, and Derek gripped Stiles’ t-shirt in one hand, slid his other under it, hot on the boy’s skin, and something clicked. Suddenly the clumsiness turned to coordination, the hardness melted into caressing lips and tongues. Warmth seemed to spread through Derek that he hadn’t felt since long before he woke up in Scott’s house. But he couldn’t just-… this was too sudden. His body was acting of its own accord and his brain was scrambling to catch up. A couple of minutes ago he was quite literally on the edge of ending his life, and now he was kissing Stiles, which he swore he would never try to do any time soon, because so many things in their lives collectively _screamed_ that it was a bad idea.

So he retreated until his back hit the rail, and realized he’d lost control of his breathing. He was shaking his head and still _crying_ and Stiles was just watching him, hands raised in front of him like a peace offering. Or like he was ready to grab Derek if he _did_ decide to jump. “Stiles, everything I touch dies or is evil. I can’t-“

Stiles actually let out a shaky breath that very nearly resembled a laugh. “Dude, I’ve literally already died _and_ turned evil and came back from both. Very recently, actually, in case you weren’t aware.” Then more quietly, he added, “You can’t ruin me, Derek.”

That hurt him. Because Stiles had nearly been through as much death as Derek had already, and easily as much pain and suffering. Except maybe Stiles was handling it better than Derek ever had, because Stiles had literally just gotten his own body back and one of his friends had died, yet here he was, talking Derek down from a suicide attempt instead of recovering in the hospital like he should be. Maybe Stiles had grown up without Derek even noticing. Maybe there was some truth to Dream-Stiles. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me. You should be in the hospital, recovering. Everything you’ve been thr-“

“I’m gonna stop you there, big guy. If you think I would rather be laying around in the hospital avoiding nightmares, than here, stopping you from being incredibly stupid, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” Stiles stood tall, stood his ground on this.

But the excuses didn’t stop. “You’re just. I shouldn’t be. Forcing... my feelings on you.” He avoided the younger one’s eye.

Stiles _did_ laugh that time, sardonically, but still. “Forcing? I let you kiss me, dude. I may be weak, but I’m perfectly capable of voicing my dissatisfaction, fuck you very much.”

With his lips pursed, Derek actually managed to roll his eyes. Just a tiny bit. Then he asked, “Are you okay?”

Stiles pondered his answer for a bit before giving him the smallest smile. “I’m okay. But you’re obviously not.”

The semi-normalcy was gone as soon as it had arrived. Derek tried not to sag, but his body betrayed him anyway.

“Scott told me that Kate’s back.” Derek just nodded. “So Peter…”

“Probably didn’t actually kill her.”

“Or gave her his “How to Resurrect Yourself 101” textbook.” Stiles sighed. “I really wish those two would stay fucking dead.”

Derek grunted his accord, and was gazing up at him again. Stiles’ presence was doing something to him; making him stronger or something. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them again. He inhaled deeply, let his eyes slide shut, and pushed his forehead against Stiles’. They didn’t kiss; just rested there, Stiles’ hand using Derek’s shoulder as a brace. His free hand found one of Derek’s and wound their fingers together. “I need you, Derek,” he muttered. _There are those words again_. “I ignored it for as long as I fucking could, but this-… when I saw you on the ledge like that I-…” His voice broke off violently, like he was trying so hard to talk but just couldn’t. Like his emotion was just too great.

“I’m sorry.”

But before Derek could say anything else, Stiles was shaking his head. “No, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you. For her to show up like that. You-“ Suddenly, he lost his balance, his knees gave out, but Derek was quick to grab his arm, concern etching deeply in his face as he studied the boy; pulse, breathing, et cetera.

“ _You need to be in the hospital_.” Derek said through clenched teeth, helping Stiles inside and over to the bed.

The younger boy took a deep breath once he sat down, mumbling, "Hogwash,” dramatically.

Derek found it within himself to full-on roll his eyes this time, but hurried to fix him a glass of water. He sat next to him tentatively and handed him the glass. “Just drink this, Queen Elisabeth.”

Stiles hummed into the glass as he took a sip. “Humor. I like it.”

They openly stared at one another until Stiles seemed to find his inner balance again. “I’m just drained, I swear. I guess I’d been standing up too long,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Back to you, though.”

“No, wait, maybe we really should get you back to Beacon Hills…” Derek was listening to the boy’s pulse again, then grabbing his wrist to feel it, and it was still hammering like he had just run twenty miles straight.

“It’s just you, Derek.”

“Me?” What did he do now?

“Between you on that- on that ledge, and you kissing me, and just… this whole _us_ -thing we seem to have going on… on top of the whole standing up for too long. Uh, yeah... psychotic heartbeat.” Stiles laughed nervously, fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. Derek flushed and an expression of overdramatic fondness erupted on Stiles’ face as he shook his head. But he sobered swiftly. “I can’t freaking imagine- I… I’m so sorry that she’s back, Derek.”

“Don’t apologize for her,” Derek snapped. “I… Stiles, I think you would be a lot safer if I wasn’t around.”

Stiles’ nostrils flared angrily and he reached over and set his glass down on the bedside table. “How would I be safer if you just… if y-you were dead? Why is that even remotely an okay idea to you? Derek someti-… sometimes you’re all I have. Okay? I know that sounds weird and scary and whatever, but yeah. Whether we’re together now or whatever we are, or when we were just friends, sometimes you’re all I freaking have, and I just- I _know_ you, Derek. Nothing that has happened is your fucking fault. I know you feel like Kate is your responsibility, I know, but she isn’t. And she’s not here for you this time.”

Derek asked quietly, “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because you didn’t kill Allison.” Stiles appeared to lose even more energy, if that was even possible. “I did.”

Slowly, Derek was shaking his head until he was furious. “ _No_ you didn’t.”

“But it feels like I did. Even though it wasn’t my decision. Even though it wasn’t done by my own hands, even. Which is exactly how you feel about your family and Erica and Boyd, right?” Stiles watched him knowingly. They were a broken boy and a broken man. _Two broken men_. They were one and the same.

Derek didn’t have it in him to answer that, so instead he said, “I didn’t believe it was real.” He shook his head again. “When she broke into my loft.”

Stiles smiled sadly. “Yeah. I get that, too. You-… your response was normal, I think. But impulsive. You entered permanent flight mode. But now… y-you… you don’t still want to jump off that ledge, r-right?”

Derek held the man’s gaze; he could tell Stiles was scared of what his response would be. He let his vision be consumed with the honey brown that was Stiles’ eyes, let the moment sink in. He _took a breath._ “No. I don’t.”

The expression from the man next to him was lightyears beyond simple relief, and suddenly they were hugging again. “If you- if you ever feel like that again, Derek… _please_ just talk to me. Please.”

“Yeah.” Derek nodded as Stiles’ fingers sunk into his hair and their lips met again. And Derek couldn’t help but think, maybe he wouldn’t feel like that again as long as he had Stiles. He knew better than to hope, but he felt that familiar flicker in his gut anyway. He kissed his way slowly and softly down Stiles’ jaw until his head was in the crook of his neck and Stiles’ arms were around him. “This _is_ real, right?” he mumbled. For all he knew, he could've made the jump, and this was like his heaven.

He felt Stiles tilt his head in question and Derek lifted himself up again to tell him about the two hallucinations/dreams/whatever that he had, that both starred him.

Stiles actually looked touched by the end of it. Content almost. “I’m your anchor.” It wasn’t a question--although there was a sense of awe--so Derek didn’t have to answer. Stiles held up his hand. “Count my fingers, Derek.”

So he did. There were only five. Derek sighed. “Five.” Now, he smiled.

“So, in a different sense than what you meant, _this_ is real, then?” He motioned between the two of them. “Us? You actually have feelings for me?” There was a light in Stiles’ eyes that had been missing for _so_ long.

“Somehow you weaseled your way past my defenses,” Derek deadpanned, just relieved to see things between them both returning to normal and turning into something new. He really wasn’t big on sharing feelings or even _feeling_ feelings or anything, but there was just something about Stiles.

Stiles scoffed. “It’s just nice to see you’re not immune to my greatest talent, like everyone else in my life has been.” He shook his head and chuckled at himself. Derek joined in, his laugh full of disbelief. He saw all of the younger man’s flaws, sure, but there was just… _something about him_. Something that had hooked Derek long before he had started admitting it to himself.

Upon Derek noticing Stiles’ shakiness a little later, they laid down on their sides, facing each other. For a while they merely stared. It was when Stiles blindly found his hand and laced their fingers again that Derek felt grounded enough to whisper what he had seen on the TV before he decided to jump. Stiles listened with sad eyes and in turn shared a bit about being trapped inside his own mind, with the Nogitsune running the show.

Eventually, Stiles fell asleep, his arm strewn across Derek’s chest and his face tucked into Derek’s _armpit_ , which Derek knew was odd, could blow off if only for the fact that it was Stiles, but… how was he _breathing_? Derek had to snicker to himself a bit. The guy was impressive in his own right. Derek would never tell him that, though. Couldn’t risk boosting his ego or anything.

With a long, deep breath, Derek’s eyes landed back on the blank television in front of them, his fingers doodling mindlessly on Stiles’ back.

The thought was simmering in the back of his mind that this was nice, something he had wanted for a while, but he was still laden with worry, with fear. A part of him still thought the world would be a better and safer place without him in it. The side-by-side images, the with-or-without-him scenarios were just fading back into view when a muted “ _no_ ” sounded from under his arm. It actually managed to startle Derek, considering he hadn’t noticed Stiles’ breathing change to indicate he was awake.

Stiles pushed himself onto his elbow to stare down at him groggily. His face was red all over. _Probably from lack of oxygen_ , Derek mused to himself. Stiles sighed and leaned down to kiss Derek’s jaw before stumbling out of bed and rummaging through the closet by the door for something.

He finally came out carrying a blanket, and shook it out until it was unfolded, not hesitating to toss it over the TV on the dresser. He pulled at certain ends until it was distributed evenly enough to stay put, then smiled softly and returned to bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow under him, he was grabbing at Derek to pull him close, who just kind of let him what with the surprise he was still experiencing. No one had ever really been thoughtful for him like that. Not since he had a family.

Stiles wasn’t sated until Derek’s head was resting on his chest, their legs were tangled a bit, and he was throwing one arm supportively around him and using his free hand to run his fingers through Derek’s hair.

Derek knew it was cliché and gooey and kind of embarrassing but it also helped more than he expected. The sound of Stiles’ heartbeat right against his ear, the smell that could only be described as _Stiles_ , it all drowned out the damning silence. It was easier to relax.

With his lips resting against Derek’s hair, Stiles said, “You need sleep as much as I do. I’ll stay awake until you do, alright?”

Derek couldn’t help but go rigid. It was his stupid built-in, auto-alarm that always went off in the face of whether or not he should trust someone. He knew it was only because he was already in a compromising position—where he couldn’t actually see the other’s face—and then the whole him going to sleep thing. His guard would be completely down.

But Stiles picked up on all of this. “Honestly, after all we’ve been through, just after everything _tonight_ , can you trust me to look after you?”

 _Yes_. “No,” Derek responded instead.

Stiles snorted. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Nice comeback, sourwolf.” A pause. “Oh come on, I could _feel_ that eyeroll, man.”

Derek just laughed, his eyelids drooping already as he let his wolf take over a little, enough to snuggle the hell out of Stiles. "Thank you," he finally whispered.

And it was when Derek was just on the brink of sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness when he heard Stiles whisper, “I think I probably love you, ya big dumb wolf.”

_I think I probably love you, too._

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Derek experiences panic-induced hallucinations, and considers committing suicide.
> 
>  
> 
> OKAY. So I've been struggling with this lil' story here for a couple of days, but I was finally satisfied enough to post it! (Thanks to some seriously awesome help/feedback from Tumblr.) Anyway, I don't really think that canon!Derek would react SO severely to the return of Kate, because if he's going down, he's taking her with him, you know? But I got the idea the moment I listened to 24 Floors for the first time and thought I would explore it. It did turn into more of a character study than I originally intended, but it's probably for the best, because I still struggle to write Derek :) I'm also struggling with the Sterek dynamic, so this was a decent stepping stone for me. I also have a pretty vague idea to do another one shot in this universe I've created, but from Stiles' POV and with them going through a different situation, but I haven't fully decided on that yet.
> 
> I genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Even if you hate it, just let me know why and I'll do my best to fix the issue in future fics :) I accept all (constructive) criticism happily because I know I need all the help I can get/am still learning! So leave some kudos, drop a comment, whatever you feel. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. My Tumblr user is ssparkinski :)


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